I got time on my hands.
I got time on my hands.
In my brain I rearrange the letters on the page to spell your name.
You wouldn’t know what to say to yourself – love is a poverty you couldn’t sell. Misery waits in vague hotels, to be evicted.
I’m tired of fighting, fighting for a lost cause.
I’ve been crowned the King of Id, and Id is all we have, so wait to hear my words and they’re diamond sharp.
Heed what this wise man says: stay away from redheads.
We got the money! We got the money now!
The band that I feel I should really like more but… erases the but.
I’d tell you, but you need to understand the new slang to get it.
Melancholy yet upbeat, accessible yet deeply indie.